


A Day For Fathers

by ravengabrielle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adult Hermione Granger, Community: Dramione FanFiction Forum, Community: dramione_remix, Community: dramionedrabble, F/M, Family, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Married Couple, Married Sex, Ministry of Magic (Harry Potter), Ministry of Magic Employee Hermione Granger, Oral Sex, POV Hermione Granger, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Pregnancy, Redeemed Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24864901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravengabrielle/pseuds/ravengabrielle
Summary: There is something special about Father's Day for Draco and Hermione Malfoy. It is a monumental celebration in their marriage. Of what origins? RATED M. Dramione (obviously). ONE SHOT.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Lavender Brown/Ron Weasley, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Kudos: 104
Collections: Draco Malfoy/Hermione Granger, Granger-Malfoy? Or Malfoy-Granger?, Harry Potter Smut





	A Day For Fathers

### A Day For Fathers

A sharp grey entrance with a long white desk, clean cut with a single chair for the one woman behind such a massive worktop. The tile clicked with each step forward. The high ceilings echoed back the lonely sound, a distant whisper to the absolute silence. Anti-septic and modern. The soft white glow of light fixtures affixed to the walls casted everything in favorable light.   
The witch behind the desk was a young one, pretty, green eyes and cropped blonde hair. Her face was nude, with a slight pink sheen to her lips. She sat at the single chair of the desk that extended well over ten feet across. Her legs were crossed below but uncrossed and stood when a guest arrived. A small, guarded look of welcome crossed her face.  
Teeth white and aglow in the light were bound to be threatening. As was the overall glow of the woman’s mocha complexion. Her posture was impeccable. Her back straighter than an arrow as she stood, not dipping in the regal form as she checked in guests to the large building.   
“I’m here to see Mister Malfoy, um, please.”  
The witch’s gaze flashed to the bottom lip chewing. “One moment.”  
Behind the desk, the witch waved a wand. A shot of light exited the end of her wooden stick and flew through the air with a whizzing sound. It only took a minute of complete silence in the large empty arena (or at least that’s what it felt like) for an answering light to appear.  
It balanced on the end of the witch’s wand. She froze for a moment.  
Finally, the wand was tucked away into her pocket holster. It hid amongst the muted black of her black dress, but it was clear when its identity was revealed.  
“Follow me.”  
“I can escort myself, if you just point me in the right direction. I’m sure you’ve got work to tend to.”  
The witch glided toward a set of double steel doors. “Not at all. Mister Malfoy requires personal escorting of all guests.”  
“Oh.” It echoed amongst the lonely corridors.   
The building was cold. The deeper they walked into the depths, the cooler it got. The escorting witch made no show of the frigid temperature although she was dressed in only a mid-thigh dress with off-the-shoulder straps.   
The steady rhythm of the clicks of her heels set the melody of the journey through the stark clean building.  
The metal doors of a lift came into view. The witch stepped inside, slid her lengthy arm across the threshold and awaited entrance into the metal box that would pull them high into the air. She made no point to acknowledge or ease the discomfort of her guest as she pressed the highest number atop a pyramid of buttons.  
Again, came eerie silence.  
They dinged at the top. The light showed it was the floor to step off.   
The witch made no move forward. Her hands clasped together in front of her, she waited.   
When she noticed hesitation, her arm gestured forward with a gracious open palm. “Mister Malfoy will see you now.”  
The lift doors swallowed her whole. Just like that, she was gone.  
The floor on which they had arrived was surrounded by walls of pure glass. A vibrant city the backdrop of such windows. An English summer gave a pouring patter of rain the relaxing sound. It echoed throughout the empty floor.   
One side consisted of a long black table complete with ivory regency chairs. The other side of the penthouse-style office was a comfortable parlor with love seats and overstuffed chairs. The latest issue of The Daily Prophet flashed a dazzling smile of Ron Weasley and his bride, Lavender Brown.   
In the front of the flowing lace dress was a red-headed boy with a goofy grin. It was their son. Just like his namesake, he lived up to the shenanigans that was expected. Just as the camera flashed, a toad leapt out of the breast pocket of his tux. Lavender’s face contorted to such shock as a toad flung to her face.  
Ron just laughed and gave the boy’s head a gentle rub. They beamed. A happy family finally together.  
At the front of the penthouse was the dreaded black desk of a seeming wraith of complete black. The entire room that was not windowpane was black or a very dark grey. The furniture, the chairs, the desk, the figurine of a dragon holding a shimmering emerald the size of a fist was black, apart from the sheen of the precious gem.  
“Like what you see?” A voice emerged from behind. Out of the shadow grew a figure, still clouded in a black cloud. The pale face showed the angelic handsome face of a Malfoy heir. Draco.   
His brows were fixed higher than their normal position, a tell of his surprise.  
“To what do I owe the pleasure of the Gryffindor Princess visiting me, a lowly businessman?” A smirk lifted his mouth.  
Hermione smirked back with lips redder than a rose. Whatever it was about red that men found attractive, she never knew. A simple color never swayed her. The magic of the red lipstick never ceased to fail. His silver eyes shuttered to her lips.   
“Pleasure?” She cocked an eyebrow. “You haven’t even begun to understand the pleasure.”  
She split open her robes and the simple, modest dress of navy blue with pink and white carnations transfigured into a corset bodice of black leather, fishnet stockings held by black garters just teased by the edge of her miniskirt. The strands of her hair pulled tight atop her head into a smooth bun.   
Her body was raised higher by the crimson red heels as they grew into six-inch heels.   
Draco Malfoy’s jaw dropped open. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”  
His feign resistance was overcome by the roaming nature of his eyes. The deep cut V of the corset captured his attention for a moment. The dark edge of her nipples just barely visible.   
“We can’t do this here,” he said as he loosened the knot of his tie. His throat was swelling. His desire was evident. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes.”  
Hermione clicked her tongue. “Oh, don’t worry, darling. You’ll have finished by then.”  
“Steady on, now. You’re act-.”  
She kissed the resistance out of his mouth. Her tongue delved into his depths. It coaxed his tongue to play with hers as her fingers set to work down below: his belt buckle. The metal guided her hands through the motions until it was opened, zipped yanked down and his cock freed of the prison of his trousers. He moaned as her thumb swirled around the tip.  
“Now don’t tell me you don’t like this.” Her eyes watched his cock swell with each pump of his heart. His hands touched the corset, some of the laces undone. “You want me.”  
In his pause of an answer, her knees bent her low. The heat of her breath tingled through his body as she came closer to his erection, dark lined eyes fluttered up to his face so he could watch as she swallowed him.   
Their eye contact sent one last stiffening. The flesh of his cock stretched so tight. The folds of her mouth welcomed it with smooth slippery entrance. Though her jaw was pried open at an uncomfortable angle, she suctioned her mouth closed around him and darted her tongue against the underside of his cock so much so that he was overcome.   
He grunted out a surprised moan, grabbed hold of her hair, and started to help her move down his length. His eyes went wide.   
“Oh, baby. It just slips right in.”  
Her own entrance started to water with his gruff voice. Tingles swirled round her nipples. The slippery slide from her chest, down her belly into the apex where all her desire dripped. Beneath that miniskirt was nothing. Not a shred of a knicker.   
One of her hands slipped beneath her skirt, fingering the small bean that stood erect on its own.   
Draco pulled her arm out of her own sweet spot. “Not yet. Make you wait for it since you want to be a whore. Suck me like you mean it.”  
His cock thrust deeper into her mouth and toward the entrance of her throat. The bell end rubbed right at her gag reflex.  
Hermione gently tugged at the sagging pale flesh of his balls. They were taut with all his excitement all ready. She varied her touch as her head pumped up and down on his cock. The fingers in her hair tightened. Her tongue danced around. It rubbed and rubbed, hummed and vibrated.  
His body started to tense. His knees locked. Cock thrusted deep inside her throat. The tension in his ball sack went hard. The edge was right there. The silver eyes closed. His cock sensed the end. But it was not his end.  
She pulled off his slippery cock. He let out a startled grunt of disapproval. The need to cum overrode his senses. His arms looped through hers and carried her over to the nearest place: his desk.  
The papers were tossed aside, as were his ink wells, quills, parchment rolls, and wand. Her arse was placed just on edge. The bare pink flesh of her pussy on display.   
His eyes noticed the absence of fabric below the skirt. It fired the blaze in his silver moons. His fingers pulled at the garters until they broke. The snap against her skin sent a shiver down each thigh.  
Draco smirked. “Do you like that, Granger? Do you like it rough?”  
His eyes, the tone of his voice, the taut grip on his thigh. Her nipples fought against the leather corset in need of attention. Her clit ached. It was wet with nothing to grind against. Her mouth watered with need and her knees trembled with excitement.   
She’d just had the big cock in her mouth. Now she needed more than just gentle friction. Her arse needed his handprint on it and the hard pull of her hips back onto his erection like a punishment.   
Hermione expected his cock to pierce her next. He wanted release. They both needed to cum.   
Although, it was not what happened. A wicked smile crossed his features. The wave of control slipped over top as he relaxed his hold on her, features relaxed from their taut, needy positions, and settled back in the leather office chair.  
His eyes danced with excitement. The torturous wait of his touch sent her body alight. She whimpered and moaned as he sat in silence and appraised the view of her exposed pussy. It was face level. He waited at his leisure in view of her beautiful pink. The wet of her own excitement leaked downward from her lips to the crease of her arse.   
It delighted him further. The smirk lifted his lips.   
“Since you want to be a little whore for me,” his slippery, seductive voice said, “go on and show me what a whore does without me.”  
The words did little to dampen the fire in her pussy. The aching hurt of the absence of his cock through her body surmounted to primal need. Her body arched. How she wanted his fingers to move inside her, split her open, swirl that sweet spot that made her howl.  
But he did no such thing.  
“Touch yourself, Granger.” He growled. “Show me just you treat that pussy when I’m away.”  
Hermione paused. She was not certain what to do.   
He read her hesitation with delight. “Not so bold now, are you, Granger? Can fuck me in my office minutes before a meeting but you can’t play with your own pussy for me?”  
Draco knew what it did to challenge her pride. It was what he hoped for.  
She brought her fingers right down to the open, wet flesh that yearned for him and caressed the folds with just her fingertips. The edge of her miniskirt pulled back far enough to display her trimmed bush just above her soaking core. At the start of her split was where all her wicked ache started.   
The flesh of her small clit stood erect. Her fingers pushed on it gently. So gently, just enough to tease her. She whimpered when the tampered pleasure coursed her body.   
More. She wanted more.  
Her eyes shuttered as she rubbed it faster. The muscles in her neck failed; her head lulled back. She worked her clit like it was an overdue assignment and just as the height of her pressure started to ascend, her fingers slowed. A quick cum was not for her. She liked to work for it.  
The slippery wet engulfed her fingers as she sank two into her hole. It felt like heaven.  
She howled with delight at finally being punctured by something. Her flesh tightened around her fingers, milking them for all their sensations, all their pleasure for herself.   
Her other hand freed her tits out of the corset. Their creamy flesh swayed with each pump of her fingers. They looked beautiful against the black leather. Her nipples were dark and supple. She pinched one gently, at first, and it had her moaning louder. Her bottom lip stayed bitten below her teeth as she focused all her energy on fucking herself with her own fingers.  
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Draco’s large pale cock. He held it in hand. His eyes intent on the scene before him as his hand worked up the length of his shaft then down again.   
It sped her fingers. A sharp tingle spread throughout her flesh to have her pleasure in the eyes of another whom enjoyed it. The cock was stiff. He treated it with tenser hands so time went on. Hermione, herself, was moving her fingers and swirling them at a speed she never thought possible. All she wanted was to cum. A moment for Draco to see the juicy, white dribble out of her hole onto his desk so for the rest of the day, he might look at it and get hard.   
The smell of her pussy filled the room. Her nostrils inhaled the deep, tasty scent. She knew that it drove Draco crazy.   
He loved the smell of her knickers. There was something so exciting about knowing how her pussy made Draco lose all his sense of decency and lick her endlessly.   
She thought about his tongue as the tension in her belly knotted tighter and tighter. She was ready to burst.   
Her hands were suddenly seized away from her delicious sex, pulled up overtop her head and pinned against the desk as Draco’s body loomed over her. His hips pressed against her. The throbbing erection pinned at the entrance of her hole, daring for a reason to slide into it’s home there.   
She looked up through her haze to meet his eyes. “Going to show me how to do it right?”  
“Looks like you did it right to me,” he replied through a ragged breath. His fingers danced over her wet clit. It sent trembles down her thighs. She shook the desk as pleasure erupted throughout her body. “I just wanted that cum to be on my cock.”  
The sudden split of her pussy with his flesh sent a loud cry out of her mouth. Her head fell back to the desk as he pounded her pussy without a care of who saw. His breath was ragged against her ear. The raw power behind his thrusts had her trembling and moaning without stop. His cock plunged through, rubbed the height of her g-spot and disappeared to build more tension inside her.  
By now, she begged for relief. Her body couldn’t take any more ecstasy. It was torture that he prolonged the sensation without cumming.  
His pace had just started to gain momentum when a shiny orb of light fluttered in the room. It leapt to the end of his wand, on the floor.   
Hermione cried out as his cock left her warmth. The heat of her pussy went cold at the lack of the friction.   
“Send them in,” Draco said to the orb.  
He trekked back up to the desk. “Ready for the finale?”  
Not yet formed an answer, he thrust into her and shagged her senseless until she screamed out. Cum dripped down his shaft. She gripped the edge of the desk as he continued to pump her pussy, post-orgasm, until she verged on another. Her hands struggled to grip the side as he was fucking until his mouth abruptly let out a cry of relief.  
They laid there a moment to catch their breaths. Hermione was too satisfied to move.  
Draco dressed back in his business attire at a slow rate. He secured his belt back to its seat. The mess of his desk was charmed back to their places.   
Finally, he grabbed the robes that Hermione had worn and tossed them overtop her shoulder. The charm of her dress reverted back to the navy dress with flowers. Her heels dropped in height. The loose waves of her hair dropped down to her shoulders.   
Draco watched it happen with a smirk. He planted a kiss upon her lips.  
“I love you,” he muttered.  
“I love you, too,” she murmured back.  
Not a moment later that he released her face did the lift doors open and out walk seven men in long robes. Wizards. They strode through the office with familiarity. Draco held onto Hermione’s hand as he traipsed to greet them.  
“Good to see you again,” Draco greeted.  
They shook hands.  
“This must be your infamous wife, Miss Granger.” A man strode up and casually extended his hand.   
Hermione shook it. “Actually, it’s Malfoy. Mrs. Malfoy.”  
The man nodded. Then a thought ruptured his calm. “Why, say. Today is your first Father’s Day, isn’t it? Your son is what, seven months old?”  
A devilish grin overtook her mouth. “That’s correct. Today is Father’s Day.”  
Draco, too, showed a bit of a smirk. It was a shared delight between the two deviants.  
Father’s Day was the one day they shagged like crazy. It was a bit of a tradition that started when they were first courting. Lucius Malfoy despised the idea of a muggleborn in the family. He made it known that Hermione was the least desirable out of all the witches on earth. So, Draco set about the idea to show his father just how desirable he thought she was.  
Every Father’s Day, they shagged to spite Lucius. It was long ago that he exited their lives in lieu of an Azkaban prison sentence, but they carried it on as a way to commemorate the way they fought against everyone to remain together.  
Draco bid his wife goodbye as the other wizards were corralled into a meeting room just off the lift. He knew just what awaited when he came home. It had him out the door the moment the workday ended, all too elated to return to a life he finally was proud of.  
* * *   
Malfoy Manor rested quiet in the late afternoon light. Elves paid by the Malfoy family scattered around as they shined and polished and dusted up the various edges of the home and its many antiquities. Just off the foyer was a parlor that her mother-in-law favored. Hermione strode inside.  
Narcissa was a slender witch of blonde hair, and regal manners. Much like Draco. She sat up in a lounge chair with a fashion magazine in hand. Her blue eyes raised from the spread when she heard the lightened steps of her daughter-in-law.  
“How was lunch?” She asked.  
“Quick,” Hermione replied. “Draco had a meeting, so we just grabbed something quick.”  
It was not a total lie. They did grab something. And it was quick…  
“I was going to say, rather soon for you to be back.” Narcissa closed the pages of her magazine. “Regulus just laid down his nap.”  
Hermione chewed her bottom lip. “How was he without me here?”  
“Fine,” Narcissa replied. “He was fine. Just like I said he would be. Hermione, it is okay to leave him once in a while.”  
She was ready to travel to his bed chamber and check on his as he slept. Her heart hated being apart. It’d taken many days of convincing just to do what she did today. It was a struggle to handle her heart being outside her body, let alone leaving it somewhere where she couldn’t tend to it whenever it needed her.   
Regulus was the apple of his mothers and fathers’ eye. He was their pride, their joy. It was the manifestation of their effort to change the world. It started with Draco and Hermione falling in love and ended with the creation of a child believed impossible by both worlds of the wizarding realm. Purebloods and the rest of the world were bound together in a future that brought forth a bond to seal the future together.   
He was the start of the new world. An impossibility, once a shame to any family, now he was the strongest, wealthiest of them all. They’d have to heed him. There was nothing he could not do.  
“It’s so hard to be away from him,” Hermione admitted softly as she seated herself on a loveseat near her Narcissa’s chair. “He’s my whole world.”  
“I felt the same way about my Draco.”  
It was difficult to imagine her stoic mother-in-law as an emotion wreck like she was. There were very few similarities between the witches, one of them being their gender. It was a short, short list. And emotional availability was not on it.  
“It does pass. With time. Soon they are so grown, you can’t remember them small. They’re so smart, you can’t believe they just loved to cuddle your breast.”  
Hermione might have found it funny that Draco loved to cuddle his mother’s breasts if Regulus hadn’t done the same thing. It made her ache against the passage of time. Why did it move so fast?  
“Then the day will come they will announce they are engaged, and it will all pass in front of your eyes. You shall look around at all your wonderful son has done and wonder where has all the time gone.”  
It felt just days that they’d had Regulus in their lives. His entrance a blessed surprise. The small being of perfect blonde hair, same as his dads. A lively pair of blue eyes big and ever watchful. He was the perfect being to ever be seen.  
“I already feel that way.”  
Narcissa chuckled. “Oh, my dear. You’ve a ways to go before you’re old and reminiscent as I.”  
“I do love the way he sits all by himself.” Hermione sighed. “Albus does not even do that yet.”  
“Yes, well, have you seen the child? It is too content. He is too good a baby, you ask me.” The witch’s nose sniffed. Her fingers were painted silver and gold. Her cuticles were neatly trimmed. Managed.  
Narcissa was such a reserved, done-up woman. She was angelic, much like her own son. They were too good to be true.   
It still amazed Hermione just how she’d landed her husband. What he found so appealing about her, she never learned. She was a mess. A panic when she got worried. And when she was frustrated? She was downright unpleasant! She let her emotions rule over her decisions and never thought twice about what she believed.  
The difference was night and day for the women in Draco’s life.   
Not long after they were engaged did statements filter through the works. It was viewed that it was a last-ditch effort for the Malfoy’s to remain in good light with the Ministry since their involvement with Voldemort was deep. Plenty thought Draco was instructed to marry Hermione to gain favor in the world again.  
But none of them knew the truth.   
It hadn’t been instant love. It hadn’t been even romantic interest. Truly.   
An eighth year at Hogwarts was an eerie return. The office of Head Girl was given to Hermione upon her reentry. It was mysterious as to why Professor McGonagall – then Headmistress – appointed Draco Malfoy as Head Boy. But now Hermione understood what the point of it was.   
He needed to be accepted. He needed another chance. It was his turn to be what he should have been all along.   
At first, he was awkward. The war had broken his sense of confidence, perhaps it was his entitlement that was missing, but something monumental within him was shifted. It made him hesitant. He pushed many responsibilities of his onto Hermione’s own plate, which had angered her to the point of boiling.  
“You can’t just expect me to do your job because I’m a muggleborn. I’m not beneath you.”  
He’d blinked a few times in total disbelief.  
“You might have missed the memo but we’re in this together,” she snarled. “Together. Both in equal parts. We both have to step up.”  
“I can’t.”  
“What do you mean you can’t? It’s not even an option.”  
He’d swallowed. Just about ten times before Hermione was overcome with frustration. “Well? What is it? Spit it out.”  
“They’ll respect it if it comes from you. It will not be questioned if it is signed Hermione Granger, Golden Trio, First Order of Merlin, and all that. Not Draco Malfoy, Ex-Death Eater, former allegiance with the worst wizard the world has ever seen, coward.”  
The sincerity in his tone convinced her that he was not just being a lazy git, but rather insecure. She had settled back down, tucked her fallen curls behind her ear and sighed.  
The war wounds were still fresh. They all felt them. They all understood. It was something they all endured, together.   
“Draco…” It was the first time she’d said his first name in front of him. “You are not a coward.”  
“Yes. Yes, I am.”  
They were alone in the dormitory for the Head Boy and Girl. Their common room was an office for their duties. It was nice and tidy. A small chair with fluffy ottoman as a footrest. Two fluffy welcoming couches embroidered with magical creatures. Then there was the long desk where each resided on a side.  
Hermione sat on her side, while he was seated straight across within touching distance. Often she smelled his cologne as she worked. It was comforting. Expensive, of course, but it did not overpower the room. It became a constant as she worked to be calmed by his smell. His peaceful quiet.   
She’s regarded him with a sudden need to prove to him just how important he’d been. Without Draco’s action, they might not have won. Harry would’ve died for certain.   
“What you did, when you tossed Harry your wand, was breathtaking.” Chills overtook her flesh as she remembered the moment he’d defied Voldemort to give Harry a wand. “That was not the action of a coward.”  
“It was. I didn’t want Voldemort to win because I was scared of him,” Draco said bitterly. “It was the only reason I was with him in the first place. I was too terrified to say no.”  
“Perhaps you aren’t brave. But you had courage to do it. If Harry had been defeated, you knew he would have killed you for that.”  
The end of Draco’s quill snapped. He exhaled. “I just wanted to survive.”  
“We all did. That’s why we fought,” Hermione revealed. “Which is why you can start assigning detentions yourself.”  
They’d settled into silence as they both worked on the upcoming rotations for patrol and tutoring. She stole many glances at him as he worked. He was different up close than he’d been in the years before. And it was a lie to believe she was not changed by the war. Her heart learned that there were many people she’d trusted that had pasts not so brilliant. People she respected made mistake. They did things she found unethical.   
It’d caused a great struggle in her mind to come to terms with. She was a very strict person. She held herself in high regard. Ethical, always. But as she found, it was not the case with many. There were reasons they held power, they had respect, they had fear. They’d proven themselves to be something else.   
Snape was given a new meaning. All her years of interactions changed on a second’s notice. Dumbledore’s secrets exposed.   
Draco Malfoy was no different. He was the product of his upbringing as Voldemort supporters. But he overcame their pressures. He changed sides. It was not to save his skin either. The war had been held heavily in Voldemort’s favor. He had numbers. He was ruthless. There was no level of which he would not descend. The Malfoys changed because they feared the world that their Dark Lord would create if he won.   
Over time there was a friendship that they struck up. Hermione urged him back to his old typical confidence. It took all term, but he bounced back. The Malfoy she knew emerged through the ashes. Only it was with a softer regard of her. He treated her as equal, as a partner. They were the two in charge of many witches and wizards within the school.  
Things turned into romance the second term of Hogwarts. It changed the course of Hermione’s life.  
A sharp shriek split the air. It was from the depths of the house.  
Narcissa huffed. “That boy never sleeps.”  
“Ten minutes is better than none.” Hermione shook out her curls as she walked to retrieve her son from his cradle.  
When the door opened, she saw his brilliant blues through the slats of the railing. She smiled. His little face was too precious not to adore. It was round and chubby. The platinum blonde hair shined in the soft light of the candles. His feet were raised in the air as his stubby hands held onto his toes.  
She gathered the infant in her arms. Her soft lips kissed his cheek.   
The night Regulus was conceived was not of great pride for her. It was the night of the Ministry gala where all the important old ninnies of the Ministry showed off for the rest of the country. Hermione dreaded it all year.   
That particular year the head of Magical Games and Sports had interrupted a heated discussion about werewolf rights. Hermione was set on enacting a law that guaranteed rights for werewolves as magical citizens owed basic decency when handled by the Ministry. She’d taken it upon herself to honor Lupin’s memory by fighting for the cause that werewolves were not able to be discriminated against on job applications. It was called Remus’ Law. The wizard, Baggart Muv, interrupted with a speech on the ‘feel good’ projects as he described Hermione’s entire job description and life’s pursuit.  
“The job is always given to a witch to become emotional about the poor suffering of creatures. They give her a little support to make her feel good. It makes her feel like she has purpose,” he said with all too much confidence. “All those pursuits are just to keep them out of departments that require delicacy beyond a witch’s ability. They’re too ruled by their monthlies to be of any stable use.”  
A combination of firewhiskey and insult created a sharp fist in her hand. It shot out from her body with striking speed that he’d barely registered it as his blood spewed from his nose.  
“Blimey Hermione!” Ron had exploded.  
Draco tilted the rest of his glass into his mouth. Party was over.  
“Come, dear, before they send in the Aurors to usher you out.”  
She still breathed fire. “I’d like to see them defend that wanker. Hey!” She shouted back at him. “How’s that for a witch, eh? Got a hook like a wizard and a bite like a bleeding werewolf.”  
She recalled the way Draco held her back from going back to punch him again for wailing “See! This is why they can’t do anything else!”  
There was a bit of a blur after that. She knew Draco had pulled her out before she was arrested by the Aurors for assault. Next thing she remembered was the cupboard somewhere in the Ministry. It was filled with copies of policy binders. Shelves and shelves upon shelves.   
Draco shred his coat. Her dress pulled up around her hips.  
There was the pressure of a shelf in her back as he grinded his erect cock against her belly. Their tongues intertwined as she stroked the length of his shaft through his trousers.  
He tasted of the sharp tang of cinnamon whiskey.  
“I love the way you handled that, Granger,” he muttered against her lips.   
“I love the way how hard it gets you.”  
Draco groaned as her fingers reached inside the warmth of his trousers and held his cock. His hands scrambled to find her hot core beneath the layers of tulle. The faster she pumped his shaft, the harder he fought against her clothing until he finally ripped the edges of her dress open to free her dripping wet knickers from their prison.  
He slipped a single finger inside of her. “I knew it.”  
His slammed the length of his finger all the way inside her, jamming his palm against her open pussy lips. Their slap excited her. The motion between her legs and the tension in his cock made her overcome with primal need. Her wetness slid down his wrists.   
The scent of her arousal filled his nose. He breathed in deep. The fingering was paused for Draco’s tongue to dance down the length of his hand.  
A shudder shot through her body. He enjoyed it so much. The taste of her.   
“My favorite dessert.”  
Hermione grabbed hold of his shoulders, pushed him to his knees, in the raw rutting urge to fuck his face, and breathed, “Prove it.”  
His beautiful smile was lost between her legs as his tongue delved straight for her clit. She was thrown back against the shelves. Her back arched to meet his wicked mouth. It moved quickly, barely skimming the top of her pointed clit.  
She whimpered. “Please, Draco. Oh. Please. Show me how much you love me.”  
It was a tactic that worked every time.  
A renewed vigor came to his tongue. It pushed and rolled the slippery flesh of her pussy. Lost in the pleasure as she ripped the bodice of her dress away from her breasts and pinched them playfully, Hermione was in raptures at his might. Her eyes grew wide as three fingers suddenly thrust through her. It filled her up. She screamed out, gripped the metal shelf over her head and braced herself as Draco fiddled her pussy like a musical instrument.  
Her thighs started to shake against his shoulder. His eyes swirled with mischievous delight. The spasms of her legs were the precursor to her orgasm. Juices flowed out into his mouth that he ate greedily. He licked the sides of her lips, the dripping hole, back up to her clit with a need to consume all her lust.   
The tightness of her belly started. She felt rigor mortis spread throughout her limbs. Her body was alive. Her nipples burned. Screamed. Tingles swallowed her breasts. They traced the line of her breastbone down to her pelvis. All of her wicked delights were primed and near explosion.  
Draco’s fingers shagged her, swirling the small nub deep within her. It intensified the sensation. The shelves clattered against the wall as Hermione thrashed and humped his face with her rising need. Cum was all she focused on.   
When his silver molted eyes met hers, she felt the tip of climax just release. Her mouth cried out over and over as the waves splashed onto Draco’s waiting tongue. He slurped the juices in a thirst.   
Her chest rose and fell in exaggerated breaths.   
“Don’t get too comfortable,” he said as he raised. His voice husky and rugged with his own throbbing desire. Draco growled into her ear. He knew what it did to her. “I’m not done with you yet.”  
He grabbed hold of each thigh, hoisted her higher against the shelves, and placed his cock right at the gaping entrance. She gasped as his cock filled her clenched pussy at capacity. He stuck it right against the sensitive spot. Her legs clenched around him.  
A grunt escaped her body as he thrust against her. The wall and shelves clattered together with each stroke.  
His lips tasted like her sex. She did not care. Their tongues shared their tastes as they tangled together. The sweet powerful delicacy of her pussy bled through her mouth as he raped the insides of her mouth in the same strength, he pushed his cock inside. It was a battle. His cock over her pussy as to who would succumb to their pleasures first.  
Draco had always made a point to have her fully overwhelmed before he finished. The extra excitement of a closet within the Ministry made his control slip. He groaned suddenly. Hot semen shot up inside her pussy and she felt its slick slide.  
As they fled the Ministry from probing Aurors, neither had a clue as to what they’d just created in the heat of the moment. A child to which they would never tell the story of how they came to be.  
Regulus and Hermione set up their play space in the parlor next to Narcissa. For all her properness, she loved to watch her grandson play and laugh. It made her feel like a grandmother. So, Hermione always made sure to set up near her so that she might feel happy over the creation her son and a muggleborn made.  
It was not easy for them to adjust to one another. Lucius’ legacy of hatred of muggleborns hadn’t added any help. But Narcissa Malfoy was just as bias as he was. That was not up for debate. She disliked when Hermione touched teacups and wrinkled her nose in distaste whenever Draco held Hermione’s hand. For all the cunning of Slytherin, Narcissa was easily read when she was displeased. Her stoic nature fell away to scowl.  
There was not one event that stopped it. It was the passage of time, living together in familiarity, a pregnancy that aided the divide between them to shrink. Now it was long abandoned in favor of happiness.  
Regulus rolled onto his stomach, just as he always did. He liked to look around. The thin neck raised his head as his arms went forward and stiff. Hermione went still as she watched. Her son then bent his knees beneath him.   
All at once her son was raised onto his hands and knees. She held her breath.  
Her son’s face was writ with determination. The downward angle of his eyebrows flexed in tension as he focused on his limbs. Hermione could not believe her eyes. One second, he was in place, another he was forward.  
He hopped!  
Hermione tapped her fingers on the floor in front of her. “Go on. Do it again.”  
And he did.  
She kept him hopping for a short while that afternoon until it was time for snack. Her lips stayed closed to the news. Narcissa hadn’t a clue as to what her grandchild done right in her presence.  
It was a struggle to keep the pure excitement inside. Her hands practically trembled as she buttoned Regulus into his pajamas for the night. Hermione chewed her lip. She wished Draco had gotten home earlier. He deserved to see his son’s new trick.  
Narcissa placed a hand on Hermione’s shoulder. She stepped aside.  
“Goodnight, my little dragon.” She pecked a kiss atop his forehead. It was their nightly tradition. She was there for every bedtime.  
At first it was irritating to have the woman overtake something that was meant to be between parent and child, more importantly mother and child, but Hermione soon realized how lonely Narcissa was in the Manor. She roamed the halls by herself. Spent her days in an empty parlor. There was no husband that might rescue her from the emptiness she surely felt.   
It softened the irritation to slight annoyance. Which was easy to forget.  
“Iuvante sequi.” A plush dragon started to sing. Its lullaby drowned out the soft noises that always awoke him without it.   
Narcissa and Hermione crept out of the bed chamber, softly latching the door behind them. The two witches were quiet. They felt the absence of their third member quite obviously.   
“I do wish he wouldn’t work so much,” His mother complained in her soft, alluring voice that made it impossible to discern any emotion. Hermione knew her well enough to know it was a complaint. “His father missed so much because of his career.”  
Hermione nodded. She was not comfortable with the mention of Lucius in any conversation that was not hostile. It did not match her own tone of the wizard. And from what she’d been told in intimate address, Lucius was not a kind father.  
“It is unseemly to work. To be demanded and beckoned by something every minute. Lucius never understood that it was improper. My father never worked. Work was for peasants, as he always said. He never liked Lucius’ desire to earn a living.”  
It was these moments that Hermione allowed her mind to wander to other things. The rantings of older generations as to how to live within a society that no longer existed were equally frustrating and tiresome. How much she longed to say ‘Just let it go’ but there was no Elsa of Arendelle to sing it out for Narcissa, so Hermione was forced to withstand it.  
“I hope you plan to refrain from returning to the Ministry,” Narcissa said. “A witch belongs at home with her children.”  
“There is actually a program for children of Ministry employees now. Until they are of Hogwarts age, they can be brought to the Ministry and cared for by professionals until the end of the workday.”  
Narcissa gasped. “ _Professionals?_ Oh no. That’s no place for Regulus. He might develop filthy habits there under those Ministry drones.”  
“Well Draco and I work,” Hermione pointed out. “He’ll have to be cared for somewhere.”  
“He’ll be cared for here, of course. In his home.”  
“By who?”   
“I am here,” Narcissa stated.  
Hermione’s brows raised. “What about your London lunches? Or Paris shopping holidays? You don’t mean to say you’ll quit them, do you?”  
Then came that heavenly little laugh of hers.  
“Of course not! The elves can handle him. They tended to Draco when I was away.”  
Things have changed since then.  
“It is not in the current job description of the hired elves,” she mentioned.  
“They won’t mind.”  
But that was not legal. Per Hermione’s Elvish Welfare Bill.   
“A caretaker elf will have to be hired.”  
A cursory glance was earned from her mother-in-law. Their minds differed on the rights of elves. It was one of the sources of contention between them whenever it was mentioned. Neither liked to pretend otherwise.   
Hermione sipped from tea. The parlor was darkened in the absence of brilliant light through the windows. The drapes were drawn. Shadows lurked in the corners. Only a few candles lit the scene around their section of chairs, coffee table and loveseat.   
Both women took their tea with honey and cream. They switched their hands as soon as the other was done making her tea.   
The lateness of the hour eventually bled in through the Manor. Narcissa yawned rather abruptly. Her eyes blown wide from her improper manners.  
Hermione ignored it. “I’m going to wait up for Draco.”  
“Oh, dear. I did not realize how late the hour was.” She ran her hands down the front of her ivory lace corset. “I best be heading off to bed. No doubt that little dragon will have me up tonight.”  
“But it’s our turn to listen for him.”  
Narcissa waved her away. “Go on. Draco works so much. You are a new mother in need of lots of rest. This ole witch has nothing to fill her days. Let her at least fill her nights with purpose.”  
Hermione bit her bottom lip. “Are you sure?”  
Regulus was a light sleeper. His lullaby dragon worked to drown out most of the noise, but there were times where he could not settle for hours. It required constant waking to keep him in his crib.   
It was a trait that Narcissa found endearing. She rather preferred a troublesome infant to a content one. Albus Potter was content to sit in his little pram all day long if you let him. There was not much interest in anything. A placid babe only made placid adults. It was said with an upturned nose as if in disgust.   
Whatever it was, it helped her mother-in-law sleep better so nothing was said to the contrary. Hermione, silently, rather liked the idea of a good sleeping child. Her hair might be less frizzy and the bags beneath her eyes a little less dark as a result of a full night’s rest.  
The night settled in silence. The Manor was eerie when it laid in total rest. The creeping coldness that grew from the dark depths sent chills down her spine whenever she was forced to endure the torture of sensory deprivation. Evil was once known to the walls. She felt it as she passed.   
Malfoy Manor was cursed, too. She felt that in her bones. The terror that filled Voldemort’s reign would never be abandoned of the house. It was too long bathed in its misery to know anything else.  
It was only in the shared wing of the house where only her and Draco occupied that was done in a fashion that felt less like the Manor outside the doors. It was warm. Light always resided there. Cinnamon filled the air as one walked through. Fires were stocked and blazed to stave off the creeping chill.  
That was the condition upon her residence at Malfoy Manor. She had to have her own space of which she was free to decorate as she pleased. It was an ancient family home with lots of pureblood, elitist décor. The portraits of sneering relatives had to be moved. There would be no traces of what it once was if she was to feel at home.  
Long before Lucius was given his trial (There were so many others that deserved trials sooner than him) he refused to allow the idea. Hermione and Draco married not long after completion of their final Hogwarts year. He had still yet to be given his Azkaban sentence. It caused great strife between Draco and Lucius.   
Their screams were constant. Draco refused to live within the Manor if Hermione wasn’t allowed to.   
It only made Father’s Day that much more sweeter when it came around.  
“Mione?” A voice trickled through her thoughts.  
“Hm?” She hummed.  
Draco tossed his suit coat over the back of the loveseat. His two hands gripped the wooden spine of it that ran down the back. The gold of his ring shimmered in the hazy candle glow.  
“What are you doing down here?”  
Her eyes devoured the sharp angles of his face. His eyes so deep and mysterious. The collected, buttoned-up wizard was hers to make a mess any time she wanted.   
“Thought I might wait up for you, darling.”  
His eyebrow jumped high. “Oh, really?”  
The tie knot of his tie was loosened from its regal standing to a relaxed, half-off state. The length of the grey fabric swung down by the buckle of his belt. His lips curled to a smirk as her gaze followed his torso down to the shining silver of his belt.   
Hermione raised her leg lazily. A slit in her nightgown exposed a line of creamy flesh all the way up to a knicker-less hip bone.   
This time it was his eyes that roamed her length.  
“How was your meeting?” She asked as her fingers gradually ran up her exposed leg.   
Draco swallowed. “Extremely difficult given I couldn’t get my mind off what was done atop my desk.” He emerged from behind the loveseat. His silhouette cut sharp and thin against the growing black of night. The moment he bent down to take her lips in a restrained passion, her finger hooked the loop of his tie and kept his lips against hers in her wicked delight. “Your smell was all over my notes. I had to tuck my dick up just to keep it from scaring my board members.”  
Her body awakened with delight.   
“I’d have loved to see that,” she murmured. “Perhaps from beneath the desk.”  
His breath sped up as an image of her beneath the conference table popped into his mind. A growth emerged from beneath his zipper. The pitched tent with a circular head pressed hard against the restrains of fabric in a prison. She knew how much he’d long to shag her right there.  
Hermione allowed the slit of her gown to grow, up higher just to the bare flesh of her pussy was exposed to the light. His eyes caught sight. It captured his whole attention, unable to rip himself away from the shaved emptiness of her sex. A fingertip rubbed down her smooth surface.  
“This day never stops surprising me,” he muttered.  
The tip shoved between her holds to the heart of her pleasure. Her clit reveled in the pleasure it gave her.   
Her back arched suddenly at the caress.  
“Do you remember the first time?” Her eyes shuttered close.   
A soft wet tongue traveled her inner thigh. The lust grew. Her fingers reached down to play with the clit herself, unable to stand the teasing.  
Draco gasped hold of her wrist and pulled it away. He’d not let her cum so soon.  
“When I took you to my father’s office and ate your pussy all over his desk?” His breath tickled against her core. It ached. The want of his tongue against it made her delirious. “How could I forget? It was the first time I tasted you. Now it’s all I crave.”  
His wet tongue slapped against her folds. His eyes shined in delight.   
Hermione watched his mouth delve into the soft folds of her dripping pussy, juices smeared across his mouth, and heard the distinct soft clatter of his belt hitting the floor. One of his hands disappeared beneath. It was to work the shaft of his aching cock. Something about this day made him so easily aroused.  
“I want you, Draco. I want you inside me,” her lips murmured.  
He didn’t need another invitation. He raised, stole a kiss, pulled her from atop her seat and then she was impaled upon his rock hard erection. It dove deeper than before. Her belly ached as it was split wide.  
She moaned against the throbbing cock as she rocked against his body. Her two hands placed against his chest.  
His hands freed her breasts from her gown. They bounced against her body as they moved together like waves of an ocean. As he neared completion his pace went from smooth wave to throttling boat ride. Sensations coursed through her veins with fury. She flexed her hands into fists. Her body shuddered and contracted as his cock thrust pleasure up through her delightful folds into the contents of her body. She felt his hardening even more when she cried out in release. Draco gritted his teeth and followed after her.  
They cleaned up the parlor, ensuring any evidence of their shag was hidden. Hermione carried his suit coat as Draco gathered his tie, his briefcase and a late-night bite since he’d missed supper.   
It was a lovely breath to lay against his chest in their shared bed. Equal contentment. Draco held her close. His hand pressed against the lower of her back. Her ear rested against the mighty pounding of his heart.  
“Happy Father’s Day,” he said with a soft chuckle.  
His eyes just about closed in exhaustion.  
Hermione smiled. “I’d almost forgotten your own son’s gift on Father’s Day.”  
One silver eye peaked open. “You two weren’t in cahoots for that gift?”  
She swatted his arm playfully. “No. That was just from me. Regulus got you something even more precious.”  
“What is that, my love?”  
“He hopped.”  
Draco’s eyes opened. “Hopped?”  
“Yes. He got up on all fours and hopped like a little toad!” Hermione beamed.   
Her husband was lost in excitement. “You mean he - ? He’s hopping. All on his own.”  
“Happy Father’s Day, Draco.” Hermione kissed his cheek. “Reggie and I love you.”  
He cradled her against his chest, eyes shuttered close, as whole as he’d ever felt in his life.  
“What a day for fathers,” his lips muttered as he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
